Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Dominican Republic and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Boredoms to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fear,
Youth Brigade,
Yusef Lateef,
Grauzone,
Gastr Del Sol,
Guru Guru,
The Grass Roots,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mars,
Todd Terry,
The Saints,
Godley & Creme,
Mad Mike,
Jacob Miller,
David Bowie,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Danielle Patucci,
June of 44,
Niagra,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moby Grape,
Scion,
Barrington Levy,
Unwound,
Aloha Tigers,
Leonard Cohen,
Kerri Chandler,
MDC,
Dead Boys,
F. McDonald,
The Offenders,
The Tremeloes,
Jerry's Kids,
Crooked Eye,
The Fuzztones,
Janne Schatter,
LL Cool J,
Section 25,
Porter Ricks,
Black Flag,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bill Wells,
Lyres,
Wally Richardson,
Pussy Galore,
Massinfluence,
X-Ray Spex,
The Names,
Blossom Toes,
John Lydon,
Bobby Byrd,
Amazonics,
Ultimate Spinach,
Joe Finger,
Ponytail,
Clear Light,
R.M.O.,
the Fania All-Stars,
One Last Wish,
This Heat,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.